


This Room Will Keep You Warm

by odofidi



Series: Someone Exactly Like You [5]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Affection, Boys In Love, Comfort, Friendship, Love, M/M, Marriage, Post Season 6, Post-Canon, Sick Fic, married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:41:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23938585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odofidi/pseuds/odofidi
Summary: Patrick wakes up one January morning with a terrible head cold. David (with a small assist from Stevie) finds his way through the day.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Series: Someone Exactly Like You [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703641
Comments: 12
Kudos: 249





	This Room Will Keep You Warm

**Author's Note:**

> I had no intention of putting another one of these out this week, but I start another session of grad school on Monday so my brain decided to get this out before I had to start thinking of other stuff again. 
> 
> This was supposed to be a short quick little thing and ended up at 3100 words. Turns out these boys are just as wordy as I am. 
> 
> Per usual, this is part of a series but all parts can be read on their own. Little things will be called back, but not to the point of confusion. Feel free to read them all though. I'm certainly not going to stop you.
> 
> This is, of course, not beta'ed. So any mistakes are mine. There's probably mistakes. It's fine. Mistakes are human. At least that's what my AI programming tells me.

David bolted up into a sitting position in bed and looked around. Something had woken him up but he wasn’t sure what. It had been a noise of some kind, that much he knew. He turned to ask Patrick if he had heard it, but found nothing but empty sheets next to him.

David stilled, hoping the noise would come again when he heard something. Not the same noise that had woken him, but a noise nonetheless. He slid out of bed and walked over to the bathroom door. As he stepped closer, he saw a faint light coming through the crack in the bottom. Not strong enough to be the full lights, but David knew the bathroom had a dimmer switch, he had insisted on it. Candle lit bubble baths were better if you didn’t immediately trip and knock one over, setting the place on fire because it was _too_ dark in the room.

He heard Patrick shuffling around behind the door and knocked softly. “Patrick? Are you okay?” He heard a mumbled response as the faucet turned on. David turned the door handle, opening it slowly to find his husband, hunched over the sink, blinking slowly as he splashed water on his face and filled a small paper cup with water.

“I’m fine.” His voice came out raspy, and not the fun kind David was usually the cause of.

David frowned and stepped forward, placing his hand against Patrick’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm.”

“I’m not sick.” Patrick responded, leaning into David’s touch. Or at least, that’s what David assumed he said. Congestion it appeared, had manifested itself in Patrick overnight and his consonants weren’t crisp. His T’s sounding closer to B’s. David was about to inform him of such when a deep, wet cough wracked Patrick’s body. He leaned forward onto his hands again as the cough tore through him.

“Ooookay.” David ran his hand up and down Patrick’s back as he wheezed. “Back to bed with you.”

“No, David, I have to get ready. We open in an hour.”

“Mmhmm. We do. Which is why you should stop fighting me so I have enough time to get ready after I put you back to bed.” David put an arm around his waist and started to steer him towards the bed. Patrick attempted to protest again, prompting David to grip him tighter. “If I have to pick you up and carry you I will. You know I can.” David’s voice was so stern Patrick couldn’t help but acquiesce.

Patrick groaned as David forced him back into the bed, tucking the covers up and around them. He had fought David on the bedding when they were getting ready to move. David had insisted on a high thread count and the more expensive duvet, blowing Patrick’s original budget for the bedroom completely out of whack. But sinking in to the bed now, Patrick was eternally thankful that David had won that argument in the end. His head was killing him and the soft cotton wrapped around him like a cloud.

Patrick’s eyes shot open a he heard a clink next to his head. He blinked quickly before focusing on David as he placed a mug, a water bottle, a plate of toast, and several packages of cold medicine on Patrick’s night stand. Patrick smiled softly as he blinked again before a frown took over his face.

“You’re dressed.”

“Mmhmm.” David finished arranging the supplies on the nightstand and moved away, back towards the bathroom. Patrick’s brain felt fuzzy. He had wanted to say something else. Before he had the chance, David appeared at his side again, placing a box of tissues on the night stand.

Patrick watched, confusion floating over him as David moved around the room. Before he could wrap his brain around what was happening, David was sitting at his side, his hand running through Patrick’s hair. He was still keeping it long and David’s fingers moved through it smoothly. He blinked back up at David, who had an expectant look on his face. “What?”

David laughed softly and leaned down to kiss Patrick’s forehead. “I said, I’m going to go and open the store. But there’s tea. And water. And toast. Eat that before you take meds. And drink the water. I’ll call you around lunch to check on you.” Patrick nodded slowly. David smirked and leaned down to kiss him again. “Go to sleep.”

Patrick murmured something unintelligible back as David stood and walked towards the door. He turned and looked back as he reached the door, Patrick was already asleep. David smiled to himself and walked down the hall, heading towards the kitchen where his to-go mug of coffee sat waiting for him. There was no way Patrick was going to remember any of this.

As he locked the front door behind him and walked down the path towards his car, David texted his care directions to Patrick. He glanced up at what he knew was his bedroom window as he slid into the front seat of the car. He wasn’t really worried, it was just a cold. More than anything he just wasn’t looking forward to working the store alone. It had been slow lately, typical for mid-January when the holiday shopping was over and the Valentine’s Day rush hadn’t started yet. But slow days usually meant boredom to David and today he wasn’t going to have Patrick to flirt with.

Maybe Stevie would come hang with him.

*****

Patrick groaned as a noise echoed around the room. He rubbed a palm over his eyes as he sat up, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. He fumbled for the remote next to him to turn off the television, which had long ago turned to a dark screen, the movie he had been watching long finished. But the noise continued. He coughed, another groan forcing itself from his chest when he finally found the offending noise maker – his phone.

Patrick grumbled as his picked it up, just as it stopped ringing. He looked down to see five texts from David and two missed calls. Glancing quickly at the texts, which mainly involved David reminding him to drink water, Patrick tapped David’s name and placed the phone on speaker phone, leaning back into the warm embrace of the pillows.

The phone rang for only a moment before David answered.

“Hi, how are you feeling?” Patrick groaned in response. “That good, huh?”

“I can’t breathe through my nose.” David’s stifled laugh echoed through the room. Patrick was pronouncing ‘th’ as ‘d’ and he sounded ridiculous.

“Did you eat the toast? And take the cold meds I left by your bed?”

“Mmmhmmm.”

“Did you drink all the tea and water?”

“Mm.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Patrick groaned and rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “Yes, dear. I drank the water.”

He could hear David’s smile in his voice. “You can probably take more meds but you need to eat some more. Last thing we need is you throwing up cold meds. That duvet was way too expensive for you to ruin already.”

“Right. Sure.” Patrick twisted to his side, closing his eyes again as he tucked one hand under his head, the other resting against the pillow, phone held precariously.

“If I send you soup will you eat it?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“The kind of soup you send me.” David laughed again and Patrick smiled at the sound. He loved that sound. He also loved David’s voice. David’s voice that was talking now, Patrick was sure of it. But what it was saying, Patrick couldn’t wrap his fuzzy brain around. The pillows were too soft. The bed was too comfortable. And all he could think about was the way David’s eyes would light up when Patrick made him smile.

*****

David laughed as he hung up on Patrick. Leaning his elbows against the counter at the store, he shook his head ruefully and dropped his phone to the counter.

“So how much of that do you think he’ll remember?”

David straightened up and smiled at Stevie where she stood over by the bath salts. “Very little. If he remembers calling me at all, I’d be shocked. He tends to get a little spacey when he’s sick.”

“Kinda shocking considering.”

“Considering what?”

“You know.” She crossed her arms and walked towards David. “He’s usually so put together. I mean, how often do you see Patrick even a little off his game? He’s definitely the most adult out of all of us.”

David shrugged, visions of overly competitive baseball Patrick, information withholding Patrick, freaking out about a stick Patrick, and a very orange, very sarcastic Patrick floated through his mind’s eye. “He has his moments.”

“Less than you.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s not exactly hard. No one’s ever accused me of being stable.” Stevie laughed in agreement. “Will you go bring him lunch? If I order it from the café?”

“Aren’t you worried café soup will make it worse?”

David rolled his eyes. “It’s gotten better since Twyla took over. Even I can admit that.” He picked up his phone to text the order in to Twyla. “Besides, it’s not like we have a lot of options here. And it’s just chicken noodle soup. He’ll survive.”

“And you don’t want to bring it to him? Play Florence Nightingale to his wounded soldier?”

“Mmm. As good as I look in a Victorian frock coat, I have a vendor coming in an hour to discuss a Valentine’s Day line.”

“Tell me it’s for wine.” Stevie’s grin was borderline evil.

“Mmmm no. It’s from the vendor we used during Single’s Week? They’re doing a new Valentine’s themed line. I don’t know.” David shrugged. “Their massage oils sold really well so I said I’d hear their pitch.”

“Okay but hear _me_ out. Wine.”

David rolled his eyes. “Go bring my husband lunch and I’ll give you a bottle of wine. You drunk.”

Stevie smirked. “Happy to.” She turned on her heel and walked out of the store leaving David behind to stare after her, shaking his head.

*****

Someone was knocking on the bedroom door. Patrick stared at it for a moment before calling out “Yeah?” and wracking his brain as to who would be knocking on his bedroom door. David would just have come in. And he was 87% positive David wouldn’t have left the front door unlocked. Besides, what kind of murderer _knocked_?

“Hey.” Patrick blinked several times as Stevie stepped into the room.

“Hi. What are you doing here?”

“David sent me with lunch.” Patrick raised his eyebrows at her empty hands. “Right yes. I didn’t know if you wanted it here or downstairs…” She pointed behind her.

Patrick nodded and climbed out of bed. “Downstairs. I need to…” He paused as a hacking cough tore through him.

“Die?”

He laughed. “Apparently.” He began to gather up the plate, cup, and mug from earlier. Shoving the cold meds in the pocket of his pajama pants.

“Want help?”

Patrick shook his head as he shuffled towards the door. Stevie took that as her cue and started towards the kitchen, pulling out a bowl and spoon for the take out she had brought in. “Twyla heard you were sick so she threw in some grilled cheese too, if you’re up for it.” She grabbed the bowl and a plate, putting them down on the table by the window.

Patrick nodded, dropping his breakfast dishes into the sink before swiping a bottle of water from the fridge and sitting down in front of his lunch.

“Want some company?” Patrick nodded, gesturing to the seat next to him. Stevie sat down, her own take out container in front of her.

They sat in silence for a while, eating their respective meals when finally, Stevie broke the silence. “This is weird.”

Patrick swallowed and cleared his throat. “Why? We’ve hung out before.”

“Sure. But not like… at your house. Having a meal. Without David. And you in your pjs.”

Patrick glanced down at his lap for a moment, taking in the flannel pajama pants before looking back up to meet Stevie’s eyes. “Should I have dressed for the occasion?”

Stevie rolled her eyes. “No. It’s… this is more something I would do with David. I _have_ done this with David. Whenever you go to those conferences I usually end up crashing with him. Though you haven’t gone to one since you guys moved in here. It’ll be nice to sleep in a guest bedroom and not have to share with him. He kicks.”

Patrick laughed, nodding as he took another bite. “Not always, but yes, he does.”

“Not always? How do you get him to stop? I have yet to share a bed with him without waking up with bruises on my shins.”

Patrick smirked. “There are two ways to get David to stop from kicking and neither are an option for you, sadly.” Stevie cocked her head staring at Patrick, silently urging him to continue. “If he’s the little spoon, he won’t kick you.”

“Okay… I’m not a cuddler so no, won’t be doing that. What’s the other way?”

Patrick laughed, a flush rising on his cheeks, he hoped she’d attribute to his cold. “If he comes right before going to sleep he usually stays pretty still.”

“Oh. My. God.” She stared at Patrick as he took another bite, a much too satisfied grin on his face. “Don’t get me wrong, I know a lot about that aspect of your marriage but it’s usually not that specific. Not sure I needed that kind of info about David.”

Patrick shrugged and pulled the cold medication out of his pocket. He ripped open the foil packet and popped the pills into his mouth before taking a large sip of water, grimacing slightly as he swallowed the pills. “Hey. You asked.”

“Great. Now every time David tells me he slept well the night before I’m gonna be thinking that.”

“You may want to stop asking him how he slept then. Cause it’s a pretty common occurrence.”

Stevie grimaced and threw a napkin at him. “Gross!”

*****

David walked in the front door and frowned as he heard the sound of the TV in the living room. He pulled off his shoes and shrugged out of his coat, placing it on his hook by the door. He padded his way into the living room and looked over the back of the couch to find Patrick, snuggled up in the quilt his mother had made them after their engagement, eyes closed as the sounds of a hockey game reverberated through the otherwise silent house.

David smiled and moved on down the hall to the kitchen. He turned on the oven before going to the refrigerator and pulling out a dish. The bonus of having Marcy Brewer at your house for five days over Christmas was that their freezer was stocked with meals, ready to be heated and served. David had pulled this particular dish out of the freezer that morning before he left.

He leaned against the counter and waited for the oven to beep, letting him know it was ready, before placing the dish inside. Resting his elbows against the island, David began scrolling through his phone, not wanting to make too much noise so that Patrick could get a little more sleep before he woke him for dinner.

He paused and raised his head when he noticed the sound of the game wasn’t blaring through the house anymore. He wandered back down the hall to find Patrick sitting up on the couch, rubbing the sleep out his eyes.

“Hi.” David kept his voice quiet, not wanting to startle Patrick, whom he was sure thought he was still alone in the house.

He failed. Patrick jumped as he turned, holding his hand to his chest. David grimaced. “Sorry.”

“When did you get home?”

“A little while ago. You were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.” David walked over to him and ran his hand through Patrick’s hair and down his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

“Better.” David smiled softly, that word came out without a single incorrect consonant sound.

“You sound better.” The oven beeped behind him. “Hungry?” Patrick nodded and moved to get up, but David held out a hand in protest. “Don’t. We’ll eat in here. You can put your game back on.”

Patrick smiled and watched David walk away. He curled back into the couch, pulling the quilt across his lap. David arrived back a few minutes later and handed Patrick a bowl as he sat down next to him, pulling the quilt on to his lap as well.

“What’s this?” Patrick asked, looking down at his bowl, a curious look on his face.

“Uh, lasagna? You sure you’re feeling better?” David attempted to feel Patrick’s forehead but he dodged out of the way, brushing David’s hand aside.

“No, I know that. I mean where did it come from?”

“The freezer.” Patrick tilted his head. “From your mom…last month…when she was here…”

“I thought we ate the lasagna already?”

David smiled softly, carding his hand through Patrick’s hair, fingering a curl before pulling away. “I had her make an extra one and hid it in the back of the freezer. Figured there’d be a time when I needed to make you feel better and I knew the first one wouldn’t last a week after they had left.”

Patrick felt like crying. “David…”

“Put your game back on.”

Patrick shook his head and handed David the remote. “It was a repeat.”

“You were watching a _repeat_ of a game? You’d already _seen_ that game?!”

Patrick nodded, digging into the bowl in front of him. “It was from last year’s playoffs.”

“So it’s a game I’ve already suffered through?” Patrick nodded. David scoffed and began searching for a movie. “Ooooo.” He settled back into the couch.

Patrick sat for a moment, watching his husband as he ate, his eyes never leaving the screen. Not for the first time he was shocked by how lucky he was to be in this place. “Thank you for taking care of me, David.”

David patted his knee. “Shhh. Hugh Grant. 80s pop. Shhh.” He glanced at Patrick and winked.

Patrick laughed and settled back, enjoying the lasagna and the man next to him.

*****

A week later, Patrick bolted up in bed. Something had woken him up but he wasn’t sure what. It had been a noise of some kind, that much he knew. He paused and listened before climbing out of bed. He walked to the bathroom door and knocked softly. “David?”

He pushed the door open to find David hunched over the sink. He opened his mouth to speak when a horrible, wet cough consumed David, forcing him down on his elbows as he tried to calm his breathing.

“Come on. Back to bed for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Keep the faith my friends. We'll all get through this together. Go watch some sports that they are reshowing. Like the 2018 World Series. Or the 2013 World series. Or the 2007 World Series. Or better yet, the 2004 World Series! All classics.
> 
> If this was your cup of tea, I previously wrote a sick fic that takes place mid season 6 where David is the sick one. I'd link that here but I don't actually know how to do that. So...click on my name and check out "Given Unsought". That one's way more sentimental. Cause I was in a mood.
> 
> Stay safe. Stay home. Wear a mask. Wash your hands. Stop touching your face. Do something that makes you happy (writing these for you guys and seeing you enjoy them, makes me happy. So I'm good.)
> 
> Title comes from The Beauty of the Rain by Dar Williams. Cause sad songs have great lines. Oh and David is watching "Music & Lyrics" at the end. Cause it's lovely.


End file.
